


Liminal Space

by Yergink



Series: Morally Gray [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M, Supernatural Elements, angel!saihara, can be read platonically, demon!ouma, not much happens but here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 10:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yergink/pseuds/Yergink
Summary: a meeting of strangers at a place in betweenorsaihara stakes out a convenience store in the middle of the night





	Liminal Space

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I love this concept and there's not enough of it so I'm writing my own. 
> 
> So, I ended up writing this over the course of a month? So I'm not sure how coherent it is. I'll probably be going back and editing more after it's posted but right now I'm just so happy that I actually finished something for once that I wanted to post it as soon as I could.  
> ...admittedly, it's been a while since I've written anything so I hope this is alright.

 

There’s garbage strewn all around Saihara’s feet, darkened by the shadow of the late afternoon sun. Like a bizarre abstract art piece, bits of paper wrappers and empty crinkled chip bags toss around when the breeze picks up, accompanied by still glowing cigarette butts and plastic shards scattered about. He sighs, picking a crumpled soda can out of the gravel. He turns it disdainfully in his fingers. The convenience store has a buzzing light up sign out front with the name of the place which must have once been ‘Food-Mart,’ but most of the letters had burned out of the sign, leaving behind ‘F-----a-t.’ The neon light of it casts a blue hue over the metal in his hands.

 

The heavy stench of exhaust weighs down the air, burning in his lungs with every breath. Saihara glances in through the broad front windows where a bored looking cashier is reading a magazine behind the cash register, framed by stacks of cheap phone chargers and candy.

 

He feels sort of revolted at the thought of spending time here. Sure, he trusts Akamatsu’s assignments as coming from both a superior and a friend, but he sort of wishes she’d sent him somewhere else for what was only his second mission to Earth. He knew the mortal realm wasn’t the nicest of places even on good days, but he hadn’t expected it to be so...filthy.

 

There’s a large recycler by the door, which makes him question the massive amount of litter outside even more, and he tosses the can he’s picked up into it before entering ‘Fat’. A bell above the door chimes his arrival, but the cashier doesn’t even look up. She blows a bubble with gum and loudly pops it before flipping the page of her magazine.

  
The lack of interaction feels strange, even though he knows she wouldn’t see him.

 

Feeling awkward, Saihara strides to the shelves. There’s not really anything interesting: chips, candy, soda, trashy magazines, it’s just standard human stuff. Although, there are some things that catch his eye. Chocolate covered pomegranate pieces, namely. His fingers hover over the bag before dropping back to his side. He wishes they’d given him money to spend. Not that he necessarily _needed_ it, but…

 

Saihara mentally chides himself. This isn’t a time to be thinking about cheap human luxuries, especially when they’re nothing more than selfish desires. He has a job to do; it’s important to keep his eye on the end game.

 

The light streaming in through the front windows is stained dark in sunset. It’s sort of hard to see outside with the overwhelming white lights humming above him. Akamatsu said he wouldn’t have to wait long, but now that he thinks about it, that could mean anything. What was a long time to a being hundreds of years old, after all?

 

A lone car streaks by along the road outside, zooming off into the nothingness beyond the store. Somewhere past the shelves, the cashier cracks another bubble. The lights continue their muted chorus.

 

Saihara stifles a groan and regrets agreeing to this at all.

 

After investigating every corner of the store, right down to the soda stained carpet, Saihara decides to wait on the roof. It’s a good vantage point; he can see everyone who goes into or out of the store, and since night has fallen the building is the only spot of light for miles in either direction of the road. A twenty-four hour candle of civilization in the dark. He’s joined up on the slant by a plethora of bugs, mostly cockroaches that seem almost mutated in their size. One almost the length of his palm scuttles by and he nervously scoots away from it.

 

It’s boring mostly, but he finds interest in watching the people who stop by as the night goes on. At around nine, a man walks in and buys a disposable camera, a bag of m&m’s, and a pair of reading glasses. At ten thirty, a woman buys three two-liter bottles of pineapple soda and a lottery ticket. At a quarter past twelve, two people walk in together and purchase an egg. A singular egg. Saihara didn’t even know eggs were sold that way.

 

As that last pair climb into their car and drive off, he thinks maybe he can see why there are plenty of otherworldly beings who spend their time around places like these. Humans are strange, wonderfully unpredictable creatures.

 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a moment, trying to come up with what sorts of things a person would do with just one egg when the bell for the door chimes below him. He startles, nearly toppling off the roof. He really didn’t see them walk in?

 

Gracefully, Saihara leaps from the roof to the ground, littered trash stirring as his feet disturb the gravel. He heads around the side of the building and into the door. The bell chimes.

 

There are two new customers: a tall man in a sweatshirt with the hood over his head, and a smaller figure in much lighter clothing clinging to his arm. Neither of them look at him. Saihara sighs, wondering just how long he’s going to have to sit around doing nothing. He’s just about to head back out when the smaller figure glances at him.

 

It could have easily been passed off as coincidence, as just a small look out towards the parking lot or something, but Saihara meets those wide, violet eyes and knows. Just as quickly as it happened, the figure glances back, murmuring something to his taller companion. The man nods, but it’s a dull, dreamlike movement.

 

Saihara watches the pair head to the back of the store and idles a short distance behind them. The man in the hoodie is staring at one of the fridges, seemingly fixated on something inside. The smaller one is up on tiptoe, whispering.

 

When the small one finishes and sits back on his heels, his companion jerks into motion. He slides the fridge door open, grabs something and stuffs it into his sweatshirt with unsteady, puppeted hands. Saihara’s eyes narrow, and he steps aside as the two turn and begin to walk towards the door. Saihara glances at the cashier’s counter, but the girl isn’t there. Must’ve gone in the back room.

 

He follows the two into the empty parking lot, and before they can get too far, shouts, “Stop!”

 

It takes effort to will himself into the human’s perception, but it works, and soon, he’s meeting a pair of glowering eyes. Akamatsu had told him to not be afraid to look people in the eye, but in the face of this human radiating an unspeakable energy, he falters.

 

“Whatcha want?” The man sneers, his hands shoving into his pockets. The boy hanging off his arm is smiling cheerily.

 

Saihara points loosely at him. “Y-You have to pay for that.”

 

“You out here pickin’ fights, pal? Get lost.” The man scoffs, turning away. Saihara moves fast, faster than any human could, and stands in front of him with his arms stretched out to either side.

 

“N-No. You can’t do that. Stealing isn’t… right…” Saihara trails off at the look of fury in the stranger’s eyes. He can feel the anger permeating in the air, like a thick broth mixed with the reek of car fumes. The boy at the man’s side is still smiling, but it’s a smile pulled too tight. The boy speaks.

 

“Are you gonna let some nobody tell you what to do? You don’t have to be forced into anything.”

 

The words light a fire in the man’s eyes and when he draws a switchblade from his pocket Saihara starts feeling uncomfortable. It’s clear the boy knows what he is, and yet he’s still willing to let a mortal try to fight him?

 

He gestures to the boy in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “You know, he’s making you do stuff, too. He told you to steal that, didn’t he?” He puts as much power into his words as he can. “Take it back.”

 

The boy whines in irritation. “That’s not fair, that’s an order if I’ve ever heard one!” But it doesn’t matter. The man looks at the knife in his hands in confusion. He tugs his arm free and turns to reenter the store, rubbing his head with one hand.

 

Saihara numbly registers that he is now alone with this boy and glances over to find narrowed suspicious eyes staring at him. Upon seeing him look over, the boy-that-must-be-a-demon grins, sharp and wide.

 

“So the guys upstairs finally decided to off me, huh? I guess they can’t have lil’ Lucifer running around causing problems anymore.”

 

Saihara blanches. “Um.. what?”

 

“Kidding, sorry! I’m not anyone that important, but I guess you knew that?” The definitely-a-demon puts a finger against his chin as if in thought. “Still, I didn’t think they cared too much about me playing with a couple toys.”

 

“People aren’t toys,” Saihara shoots back. “The massive increase of crime in this area is because of you, isn’t it?”

 

“You got it!” The demon exclaims. Saihara notices the space around the boy wavering and flickering, like the air above asphalt on a hot summer day. Slowly, the demon’s true attributes blur into existence.

 

It isn’t surprising. Places like these, places on the edge of humanity’s reach, are places in between worlds. Parking lots, empty stairwells, abandoned buildings, they’re all places where it becomes easy for beings like them to shed human appearance without even meaning to. Saihara himself can sense a sudden weight as his wings settle against his back.

 

The horns curling from under the demon’s unruly dark hair make his short stature a bit more imposing. His leathery wings spread wide, like fans, and his tail lashes back and forth as he laughs. He meets Saihara’s eyes, still smiling.

 

“I won’t go down easy, though. Every other angel that’s come after me can attest to that.” He says. There’s something in his hands, dark and glinting against the soft light. A knife. Saihara can sense the unholy energy emanating from it even at a distance.

 

Saihara judges the demon’s threat carefully. He recalls Akamatsu exasperatedly explaining that everyone sent before him had come back injured in all sorts of ridiculous ways. Some returned with their feathers dyed various colors or with permanent marker smudged around their eyes to accompany nothing more serious than broken bones and shallow cuts.

 

The demon’s round eyes peer at him, waiting, the neon blue light of the store sign reflecting against them.

 

Seeing him like this, after a moment of process, Saihara doesn’t think the boy in front of him looks all that much like a demon. He looks… very human, in a strange way. Small and ragged, with dirt under his dainty looking fingernails and sweat against his forehead from the heat. With his arched wings and too-tight grin, he seems, rather, like a cat with its hackles raised, trying to look fiercer than it is.

 

Saihara puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m not going to hurt you! I don’t know what anyone else did, but I’m just here to talk.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” the demon sing-songs, and he spins the blade in his hand. “But maybe if you toss your weapon aside, I’ll listen for a bit.”

 

Saihara bites his lip. “I don’t have a weapon.”

 

“Now you really _are_ lying to me! Tsk tsk, angel-chan.”

 

Saihara doesn’t reply. Akamatsu had said he wouldn’t have trouble, but he can feel his hands start to tremble at the thought of tainted metal against his skin. He’s not a fighter. He’s not strong willed like Akamatsu, who can stun demons with her voice. He’s not physically powerful like Gokuhara, who can snap wings like twigs. Without even a weapon for protection…

 

There’s a stinging pain as his teeth break the skin on his lip. In his mind’s eye, Akamatsu is smiling, telling him he can do this, that he should be brave. It takes him a moment, but eventually he says, “...fine.”

 

He takes a deep breath and holds out a hand. In a flash of light, a silver longbow materializes in his grasp. It exudes a pure, holy light, a foil to the weapon in the demon’s hands. He lets it fall into the gravel at his feet.

 

The demon traces the edge of his blade with a finger, tail curling around his feet. “Guess I should follow through then, huh? Since angel-chan is being _so_ brave.”

 

Saihara swallows uneasily.

 

* * *

It turns out he didn’t have much to worry about. The demon had tossed his own weapon into the gravel beside Saihara’s only a moment after. His eyes linger on them, buried amongst the stones and garbage. To humans, the two ethereal items would probably just look like more trash. The thought makes him a bit sad.

 

Saihara shifts, glancing over nervously at his companion and then away. They’d sat back atop the roof of ‘Fat,’ watching the night pass by around them.

 

Wringing his hands in his lap, Saihara looks over again. The demon is resting his chin in his palm, looking out over the parking lot. “S-So…” he starts.

 

“The guys upstairs made a great choice in sending you here, huh? Excellent communication skills,” the demon deadpans. Saihara flushes.

 

“I can’t help that I’m nervous!” He defends. The demon rolls his eyes. “Well, hurry it up a little. I’m a busy guy. Got places to be, mischief to be causing and all.”

 

“People to be manipulating?” Saihara mutters. The demon grins, glazing his reply in the sweetest tone imaginable.

 

“You got it! Aren’t I bad?”

 

Saihara stays quiet for a minute. “...That’s what I’m trying to decide.”

 

There’s a sudden sharp pain in his side and Saihara jumps immediately, his wings catching air and carrying him a good few feet off the rooftop and _oh god why did he agree to drop his weapon--_

The demon snickers. “You jumped real high, huh? Sorry about that!” His tail curls in Saihara’s view, and calming from panic, he determines that must have been what had pricked him.

  
Carefully, he settles back on the rooftop. “You sure are a handful,” Saihara says.

 

“That’s what my mother always told me,” the demon flutters his eyelashes at him almost bashfully. “You surprised me, so I had to return the favor.”

 

“Surprised you?”

 

“Mhm! With all that ‘trying to decide’ nonsense.”

 

“What do you mean?” Saihara asks, confused.

 

The demon stares blankly at him. “Are you dense? Is this your first time out in the world?” He leans towards Saihara and jabs a finger at his chest, wings spreading behind him and creating a grisly red background to his words. “I’m. A. Demon.”

 

He grins, and all at once Saihara can _feel_ a malice behind those words that hadn’t been present before. He tries to swallow, but his throat feels tight. The edged tip of the demon’s tail is winding around him and he feels suffocated by the proximity.

 

“We’re bad, you know? Evil, wicked, sinful, vicious, do I need to say it in another language?”

 

Saihara feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. “U-Uh… I, um--” He can’t get anything coherent out.

 

The overwhelming weight of the demon’s presence lightens and Saihara breathes out heavily in relief. The demon is still smiling from where he sits a little away.

 

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? That I’m the one making people commit more crimes?”

 

“W-Well...”

 

Saihara is just about to reluctantly agree when a noise cuts off their conversation. A static-y sound coming from inside the store. He remembers seeing a radio on the cashier’s counter-- she must have turned it on.

 

Saihara hears the back end of a commercial for some sort of hair product through the static. He’s prepared to tune the sound out, but what comes next catches his attention.

 

“Local… news…” the speaker’s voice is faint and muffled in static. “..nother murder… ported… intersection of… izens told to keep an eye… lock doors…” the sound fades entirely for a few seconds before returning. “Traffic news…”

 

The demon seems caught off guard as Saihara meets his gaze, but the look instantly morphs into one of ease when he notices there are eyes on him.

 

He’s in the middle of wondering why the demon would be shocked at this news when it clicks.

 

Saihara stares. “It’s not you.”

 

“Hm?” The demon makes a noncommittal sound, kicking his feet back and forth off the edge of the roof.

 

“The one causing trouble. It’s not you.”

 

“And why do you say that,” the demon drawls, leaning back and staring boredly back at Saihara.

 

“You’re here. And someone’s just been murdered.”

 

“Wrong, angel-chan. Someone’s been _found_ murdered. You don’t know when it happened.”

 

“The city is busy,” Saihara replies, mind racing. “It wouldn’t take long for people to find a dead body. Not since they’ve all been out in the open thus far. It’s not enough time for you to come out here and find another human to mess around with.”

 

“And what if that guy I was with was the murderer?” The demon’s eyes glint.

 

“He wasn’t. We _know_ who the murderer is, that’s not the problem. We needed to find who was pushing him. And it’s not you. Because you’re here. And whoever is behind this is certainly still hiding in the city.”

 

“And you’re sure about that?”

 

Saihara notes the way he asks that, as if he can’t believe someone would think him innocent. He isn’t sure if his logic is flawless, but what he does know is that there’s something telling him he’s right. Angels can sense the truth of a human’s heart. Perhaps this is the same?

 

From inside the store, the static layered traffic news has given way to another series of advertisements. Saihara isn’t sure if the voice telling him to buy a mattress is making the situation more uncomfortable or relieving the tension as he stares the demon down.

 

And then laughter. The demon is laughing. “You’re right! I was lying about causing trouble. I actually don’t know anything about what’s going on in the city.” He smiles, and it somehow feels more genuine. “So you can go back and tell your dumb angel boss that they don’t have to send anyone else after me.”

 

“Wait!” Saihara says as the demon rises, presumably to take his leave. “Why did you lie about being the one doing this?”

 

The demon stays silent, his back turned to Saihara. His tail stills, curled loosely at his ankles. Then he turns, that too-wide grin plastered across his face. “Because I’m a liar! No reason but that.”

 

He doesn’t even give Saihara a moment to digest that before leaping into the air. His leathery wings beat against the wind and the sight sends a chill down Saihara’s spine.

 

_He’s leaving…_

 

Before he can talk himself out of it and before the demon can rise out of reach, Saihara grabs hold of his tail and yanks. It must have been more painful than he assumed because the demon lets out a strangled yelp before turning and swatting at him. “What the hell? What’s your problem?”

 

“Ah! S-Sorry!” Saihara lets go sheepishly. “I just… hadn’t asked your name yet.”

 

At first, he doesn’t think the demon is going to answer. The lapse into silence is certainly disconcerting. But in what he supposes is an attempt to not have been the only surprised one through their interaction, the demon replies.

 

“Ouma Kokichi.”

 

“W-Well,” Saihara starts, putting his hand out for the demon-- Ouma-- to take. “Mine is Saihara Shuuichi.”

 

Ouma snickers. “No offense Saihara-chan, but I’m not going to touch your gross angel hand. Who knows what sorts of germs you have crawling in those dirty feathers?”

 

Saihara feels his face get hot. “I-- I don’t--!”

 

His stuttering only causes Ouma to laugh harder. “It’s been fun, Saihara-chan! Hope you come back to Earth every so often or I might start getting lonely!” He winks. “And that’s not a lie.”

 

When Ouma finally does leave, Saihara watches as the night swallows his form. His first actual meeting with a demon and he ended up… sort of befriending it? Or at least seeing eye to eye. He laughs bitterly to himself. What a mess, huh? If he knew what was good for him, he’d avoid coming in contact with that demon for the next few hundred years or so.

 

...But he knows he’s not going to do that. He wants to see Ouma again. He knows that for sure.

 

He makes a mental note to ask Akamatsu to send him down to Earth more often and spreads his wings.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm not 100% happy with how this turned out. I had like, two other drafts of how I wanted this initial meeting to go which got scrapped and even with this, I don't feel completely satisfied. I do however have a few others ideas with this concept that will probably not be as challenging to write so if you liked this, look forward to that?


End file.
